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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061250">Catnip</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexplicifics/pseuds/inexplicifics'>inexplicifics</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Gen, Intoxication</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:22:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,633</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061250</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexplicifics/pseuds/inexplicifics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt encounters a rare herb, which acts a lot like witcher catnip.</p>
<p>Inspired by a kinkmeme prompt.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Good Things Come In Small Packages, Wasn't Quite Expecting This (But I Loved It)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Catnip</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The stew is, surprisingly, quite good - far better than Jaskier would have expected given the otherwise down-at-the-heels state of the inn - and he sets to with a will. Geralt, beside him, takes three big spoonfuls - almost half the bowl, the man eats like a wolf sometimes - before pausing abruptly, putting the spoon down with a soft <em>click</em>, and muttering, “Fuck.”</p>
<p>Jaskier stops eating. “Is something wrong with the food?” he hisses. “Is the meat gone off? Or - oh gods - is it <em>poisoned</em>, have these people decided that killing travelers is more profitable than renting rooms to them -”</p>
<p>Geralt’s glare cuts him off. “You’ll be fine,” the witcher growls.</p>
<p>Oh, no, he’s not getting away with <em>that</em> one so easily. “I’ll be fine - what about you? Is this some sort of witcher-specific poison?”</p>
<p>“Hm,” says Geralt. Jaskier sputters. <em>Hm</em> is almost never a helpful response, and even less so now! And even less again when Geralt rises and heads for the stairs. Jaskier follows him, of course.</p>
<p>Geralt is moving rather quickly, though, and he’s already sitting on the bed with his head hanging down by the time Jaskier closes and latches the door. Jaskier swallows hard and sinks down to kneel in front of his friend, trying to get a look at Geralt’s face. Even the tiniest expression might give a hint as to what’s gone wrong. “Geralt, are you alright?”</p>
<p>Geralt looks at him, and Jaskier’s jaw drops. Geralt’s pupils have blown <em>huge</em>, barely a tiny ring of gold remaining around them. Oh <em>fuck</em>. “Geralt, did someone dose your stew with - with a lust potion?” Jaskier asks, wondering if he’s about to be jumped by a lust-maddened witcher. Under other circumstances, he would not object to sharing a night of passion with his companion, but witcher strength plus lust potion sounds like a <em>bad</em> combination.</p>
<p>But Geralt says, “No.” He takes a deep breath, and braces his elbows on his knees, letting his hands hang limply. “It’s an herb.” His lips twist, almost imperceptibly, in something that might be humor or dismay. “Witcher catmint.”</p>
<p>“Witcher <em>catm-</em>” Jaskier breaks off and starts to grin. “Oh, Geralt. You are very, very high right now, aren’t you.” Jaskier’s <em>seen</em> cats strung out on catmint, and the big eyes - and now that he’s looking for it, the slight slowing of reflexes, the <em>looseness</em> of Geralt’s muscles - are very familiar.</p>
<p>Geralt nods. Jaskier chuckles and moves to sit beside him on the bed, daring to rub a hand over Geralt’s back. He means it to be little more than comfort or commiseration, but Geralt makes a low noise - a <em>purr</em>, Jaskier thinks in wondering delight - and leans heavily against Jaskier, his head on Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier keeps stroking his back. Geralt keeps <em>purring</em>.</p>
<p>Well alright; this wasn’t quite how Jaskier expected to spend his evening, but he’s adaptable, he can adapt, look how well he’s adapting to having his witcher draped over him like a - well - a particularly large and affectionate cat. Geralt is leaning harder and harder, and Jaskier shifts a little, and Geralt’s head slides off his shoulder, and there’s a confused moment that ends with Jaskier scooched back a little farther on the bed and Geralt’s <em>head</em> in his <em>lap</em>. Geralt’s eyes are half-closed - though his pupils are still blown wide - and Jaskier swallows hard and dares to stroke a hand over Geralt’s pale hair.</p>
<p>The purring <em>redoubles</em>, and Geralt goes almost limp, draped over Jaskier’s lap and looking so utterly contented it almost hurts to see. “Oh, so you <em>do</em> like being petted,” Jaskier murmurs, not really paying attention to his own words. “Look at you, you great hedonist; why don’t you ever let yourself have this when you’re sober, hm? Although come to think of it, anyone who sees you like this will never be afraid of you ever again, you great silly creature.”</p>
<p>“Not afraid of me <em>anyway</em>,” Geralt rumbles, eyes slipping all the way closed.</p>
<p>“Well, yes, but that’s because I have the survival instincts of a concussed duck,” Jaskier says, grinning. “Isn’t that what you said last week? Really almost a poetic insult, I’m so proud of you. Which, actually, come to think of it I’m frankly surprised you’re letting me see you like this. I would have thought you’d rather lock yourself in the room and never let me know you can <em>purr</em>.”</p>
<p>“Hm,” says Geralt, the frustrating man.</p>
<p>“Why does this even work?” Jaskier continues, leaning back against the wall and settling in to enjoy an evening of petting a purring witcher. He’s clearly not going to be going anywhere: Geralt is <em>heavy</em>. At some point, they’re going to have to move, because Jaskier’s feet are going to go to sleep. But that’s a problem for later. “I would think witchers would be immune to any sort of intoxicating herbs.”</p>
<p>Geralt shrugs. “Hm,” he says again, and then, to Jaskier’s surprise. “‘S not harmful.”</p>
<p>“Huh,” Jaskier says, and traces a finger over the curve of Geralt’s ear. “And witchers only worry about things that are harmful, don’t you.”</p>
<p>“Hm,” Geralt agrees, and reaches out to toy with the laces of Jaskier’s boots, turning the knot over and over in his fingers. Geralt doesn’t usually fidget. It’s oddly endearing. Jaskier has a mental image of dangling a piece of string in front of Geralt and seeing if he’ll bat at it, and decides that even with Geralt mellowed by witcher catmint, that might be a bridge too far.</p>
<p>He’s going to have to figure out <em>which</em> herb acts as witcher catmint, because this is <em>far</em> too entertaining to only do <em>once</em>.</p>
<p>“As long as you’re a captive audience,” he says to the purring witcher draped over his lap, “or perhaps I am a captive bard, because you are <em>heavy</em>, Geralt, really this is quite ridiculous, do you keep rocks in your pockets or something? - in any case, I’m going to practice all my new songs, and you can’t stop me.”</p>
<p>“<em>Hm</em>,” says Geralt, but he doesn’t move. Jaskier runs through four of his newest compositions, petting Geralt’s hair in time with the beat, and Geralt lies there and purrs and toys with the laces on Jaskier’s boots and looks utterly relaxed in a way Jaskier has <em>never</em> seen before.</p>
<p>And then because Jaskier is Jaskier, and has never seen a bad decision he didn’t sort of want to make, he launches gleefully into <em>Toss a Coin to Your Witcher</em>, and Geralt grunts and moves <em>almost</em> as fast as he usually does - there is, in fact, a perceptible difference, only a hair’s breadth but enough for Jaskier to notice - and pins Jaskier down flat on the bed, and flops on top of him. Jaskier grunts as the air is driven from his lungs. Well, he certainly won’t be singing <em>now</em>.</p>
<p>Geralt...<em>snuggles</em>, is the only possible term for it. He snuggles down with his face buried in the crook of Jaskier’s throat and makes little disgruntled noises until Jaskier reaches up and resumes petting his hair, and then he starts purring again, and it resonates all through Jaskier’s chest where Geralt is sprawled atop him.</p>
<p>“Well, alright,” Jaskier murmurs. Geralt actually isn’t putting <em>that</em> much weight on him - he’s braced on his own arms - which is surprisingly thoughtful for a man stoned out of his head. And this is startlingly comfortable. Jaskier closes his eyes and keeps petting, and relaxes into the reverberation of Geralt’s purr.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Jaskier wakes up to find that his boots have been taken off and there’s a blanket atop him instead of a remarkably solid witcher. Geralt is sitting on a stool, oiling his swords, his eyes - when he looks up at Jaskier - entirely back to their normal slit-pupiled gold.</p>
<p>“Aww,” Jaskier says. “I liked you snuggly.”</p>
<p>Geralt says, “Hm.” He doesn’t sound irritated, though.</p>
<p>Jaskier gets up and changed and washes his face - the water in the basin is pleasantly warm for once - and is most of the way through lacing his boots back on when the thought hits him.</p>
<p>“Geralt,” he says slowly. “You had enough time last night before it <em>really</em> hit you. You could’ve taken that one potion - White Honey - couldn’t you?” And then you wouldn’t have spent the evening draped over my lap and purring, he doesn’t add aloud. He doesn’t want Geralt to think he <em>regrets</em> any of that. It was really, really...sweet, actually.</p>
<p>Geralt doesn’t look up from his swords. “Hm,” he says. Jaskier waits, wondering if there’s going to be more than just <em>hm</em> forthcoming.</p>
<p>He is rewarded, after a long silence. Geralt re-sheathes his swords and says, gruffly, “It’s...nice. To relax.”</p>
<p>Jaskier can feel his eyes going wide. Not just from the admission, but from the fact that Geralt trusted <em>him</em> enough to let go of his carefully-guarded control.</p>
<p>“It <em>was </em>nice,” he says, a little weakly. “Your hair is very soft.”</p>
<p>“Hm,” Geralt says, and this time it’s definitely the end of the conversation.</p>
<p>Jaskier thinks Geralt might want to forget the entire thing, and despite his lack of survival instinct is willing to pretend to do the same so as to keep from being punched...until that evening, when Geralt sits down beside him rather than across the fire from him, and very resolutely <em>doesn’t</em> look at him at all. Very carefully, Jaskier reaches out and puts a hand lightly on Geralt’s back, ready to snatch it away if Geralt even <em>looks</em> at him funny.</p>
<p>Geralt leans into his hand, just a little. Jaskier swallows hard and starts babbling - he’s not even sure about <em>what</em>, just whatever comes into his head, meaningless words to fill the suddenly charged silence - and very, very carefully starts petting Geralt’s back.</p>
<p>Geralt leans his head against Jaskier’s shoulder with a long sigh, and starts to purr.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Unbeta'd and very silly.</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23458636">[Podfic] Catnip</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chantress/pseuds/Chantress">Chantress</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
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